


Small Talk

by sweeterthankarma



Category: Ozark (TV)
Genre: F/F, Ruth Langmore is a lesbian, Set sometime in early season 3, because I said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24097030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: “You got an acquired taste for the Byrdes or something?” Charlotte replies, and it’s half a joke, half an invitation for what Ruth assumes must be a fight or at least a challenge. Her lips quirk up into the faintest flash of a smile, so much so that Ruth isn’t sure she even sees it. Ruth assumes she’s challenging her.“It’s acquired, alright,” Ruth shoots back lightning quick.
Relationships: Charlotte Byrde/Ruth Langmore
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	Small Talk

“I hate your father” is the first thing Ruth says aside from hello to Charlotte. She should know better than to say it out loud, to even try to have a conversation with her boss’s daughter, but she’s bored. They’ve been staring at the lake for what feels like fifteen hours, though it’s probably only been fifteen minutes. She’s been having existential thoughts lately anyway, and she’s starting to wonder why she keeps her mouth shut. Obviously not about money laundering and drug cartel stuff, but you know, less serious things. Like when Ben, Wendy’s weird, hairy brother brings her food she doesn’t like. She’s never been good at lying to make people feel good. Lying in other ways, sure. 

“Yeah, me too,” Charlotte replies like they’re talking about something as mundane as the Cardinals’ score. Ruth finds that she isn’t particularly surprised by her answer. 

Charlotte’s hair blows in the humid wind and she fusses to tie it up, pull it away from her eyes. Ruth pretends not to watch her. She has nice hair. Ruth has got nothing else to look at, anyway.

A boat passes, slow and sluggish in the midday sun, and when the man behind the wheel lifts a hand and waves to them, neither Ruth or Charlotte wave back.

“Why are you here, anyway?” Charlotte finally asks, even though they both know why. Marty had promised to meet at the house for Ruth’s next set of orders, something about a spying Fed at the casino causing paranoia, but he got delayed on the freeway back from Kansas City. Ruth might as well go home, get some lunch or at least drive in circles in a parking lot to waste her time like this, yet she finds that for some reason, she stays. 

If she’s honest, it’s been awhile since she’s been around someone her age, and a girl at that. So what if Charlotte’s a few years younger, a little prissier and preppier. She’s something. She’s not Three, entirely brainless and never sober. In fact, Ruth doesn’t really know anything about what Charlotte is. 

Ruth gives Charlotte the same explanation about Marty and his tardiness and Charlotte just nods. In the sun, Ruth can see a patch of freckles dotting her cheeks, across the bridge of her nose. She’s a pretty girl. Could be a model, some big shot Chicago teen if her dad hadn’t fucked her over by making deals with drug lords. Ruth almost feels sorry for her. Almost. 

“You got an acquired taste for the Byrdes or something?” Charlotte replies, and it’s half a joke, half an invitation for what Ruth assumes must be a fight or at least a challenge. Her lips quirk up into the faintest flash of a smile, so much so that Ruth isn’t sure she even sees it. Ruth assumes she’s challenging her. 

“It’s acquired, alright,” Ruth shoots back lightning quick. 

She doesn’t give a damn if Charlotte hates her. She’d probably hate her too if she was in her place. 

Ruth doesn’t know what she expects Charlotte to do in response, but it certainly isn’t chuckle and settle back into the grass. She splays her hands out behind her and almost looks peaceful. Ruth looks away. 

“Everything else in this town tastes just as bad,” she counters. She fingers through blades of green, rips a few out of the ground before rotating on her side until she’s looking up at Ruth, elbows in the soil.

Ruth looks back now. The combination of Sprite and lemonade sits heavy on her tongue. Birds fly overhead, squawking and calling out. The sound feels uncomfortably familiar, ringing in her conscience, and she has a brief thought of what her life would be like if she was someone else, someone who was fortunate enough to never even hear the word _Ozarks._

She’s looking at Charlotte as she thinks. She really is damn nice to look at. She’s an easy, almost effortless kind of pretty, but she’s worn too; Ruth can see it more obviously like this, up close like this. Dark circles cloud the skin beneath her eyes, just like Marty. Just like Wendy. Just like Ruth. 

“Are you going to kiss me now?” Charlotte asks, so gently Ruth almost thinks she’s misheard her. 

“What?” is all Ruth can manage to sputter out. She can’t act offended, she isn’t. But Charlotte had said it so casually, like she was asking Ruth what time Marty was supposed to come over, and Ruth never pegged Charlotte for casual, at least not when it comes to kissing. Not that Ruth’s thought much about who Charlotte kisses. She doesn’t even have much time to think about who _she_ kisses. 

“You heard me,” Charlotte replies, and she sounds almost discouraged, annoyed that Ruth isn’t jumping at the chance, isn’t already kissing her. She rips at some more grass, flicks her gaze away from Ruth’s.

“Are you high?” Ruth asks. It won’t stop her from kissing Charlotte, but she’d like to know.

Charlotte scoffs and wipes at her cheek. The faintest hint of sunscreen comes off on the pad of her thumb and she cleanses it with the condensation on her water bottle after taking another sip. “I wish.”

“Me too,” Ruth admits. Then, after a beat: “do you really want me to kiss you?”

Charlotte nods and shrugs at the same time. “Yeah. Why not? I got nothing to lose.” The tone of her voice is a little tragic, honest with just the right amount of melodrama. Ruth gets it. She knows this angle. The Byrdes are all about angles. She shouldn’t be surprised.

“Oh,” she drawls, voice the faintest bit heady. “So you don’t think you’ve got anything to gain from me, is that it?” 

“You tell me,” Charlotte counters. She’s on her knees now, still angled towards the ground, but she’s closer to Ruth now than she has been all day. Closer than she’s ever been. 

“Probably not,” Ruth admits, concedes, and then leans down to meet Charlotte halfway. She kisses sweet and strong and with unexpected conviction, and when she makes a move to clamber into Ruth’s lap, Ruth thinks, _fuck it_ and lets her. She’s already irrevocably wrapped up with the Byrdes, for better or for worse, and it’s about time she gets something good out of it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about fandoms in the comments or at my tumblr blog under the same username, sweeterthankarma.


End file.
